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Pretensions to moral superiority are devastatingly destructive.

quote by Mary Douglas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

Whatever is given.
And however that is meant.
Why do many get upset,
When they receive exactly...
What to them has been sent!

Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

Why is it believed,
By some.
What they do that has been done,
Is okay?
And an acceptance of it,
Should be kept that way.

Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

Too many people are the 'cause'.
And not the solution to prevent.
Or a pause that should be long taken,
With no attention given spent.

Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

Some have established themselves as 'saints'.
While others full of themselves,
Do not have to eliminate a single thing...
To emanate fumes from them that 'stink'.
And/or past tense from them that 'stank'!
Whatever is the preference.

Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

With their quick judgements to pass.
Like fresh air blocking gas.
A picture alone,
Paints a thousand words.

Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

Whatever is given.
And however that is meant.
Why do many get upset,
When they receive exactly...
What to them has been sent!
As intended upon the return ot it.

Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Columbiad: Book X

The vision resumed, and extended over the whole earth. Present character of different nations. Future progress of society with respect to commerce; discoveries; inland navigation; philosophical, med and political knowledge. Science of government. Assimilation and final union of all languages. Its effect on education, and on the advancement of physical and moral science. The physical precedes the moral, as Phosphor precedes the Sun. View of a general Congress from all nations, assembled to establish the political harmony of mankind. Conclusion.

Hesper again his heavenly power display'd,
And shook the yielding canopy of shade.
Sudden the stars their trembling fires withdrew.
Returning splendors burst upon the view,
Floods of unfolding light the skies adorn,
And more than midday glories grace the morn.
So shone the earth, as if the sideral train,
Broad as full suns, had sail'd the ethereal plain;
When no distinguisht orb could strike the sight,
But one clear blaze of all-surrounding light
O'erflow'd the vault of heaven. For now in view
Remoter climes and future ages drew;
Whose deeds of happier fame, in long array,
Call'd into vision, fill the newborn day.

Far as seraphic power could lift the eye,
Or earth or ocean bend the yielding sky,
Or circling sutis awake the breathing gale,
Drake lead the way, or Cook extend the sail;
Where Behren sever'd, with adventurous prow,
Hesperia's headland from Tartaria's brow;
Where sage Vancouvre's patient leads were hurl'd,
Where Deimen stretch'd his solitary world;
All lands, all seas that boast a present name,
And all that unborn time shall give to fame,
Around the Pair in bright expansion rise,
And earth, in one vast level, bounds the skies.

They saw the nations tread their different shores,
Ply their own toils and wield their local powers,
Their present state in all its views disclose,
Their gleams of happiness, their shades of woes,
Plodding in various stages thro the range
Of man's unheeded but unceasing change.
Columbus traced them with experienced eye,
And class'd and counted all the flags that fly;
He mark'd what tribes still rove the savage waste,
What cultured realms the sweets of plenty taste;
Where arts and virtues fix their golden reign,
Or peace adorns, or slaughter dyes the plain.

He saw the restless Tartar, proud to roam,
Move with his herds and pitch a transient home;
Tibet's long tracts and China's fixt domain,
Dull as their despots, yield their cultured grain;
Cambodia, Siam, Asia's myriad isles
And old Indostan, with their wealthy spoils

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Social Netowrking Of Robots

end of world war
end of world war 11
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end of world thursday prophet
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end of ww2 for japanese americans
end of ww-ii
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end of wrold war 2
end of ww11

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Affluenza

An affluenza suffered has gone.
Moan on.
But they've got to snap back.
Because that affluenza traps

And it's hard,
For them...
To sacrifice their trinkets.

How will they live,
Without their bangled baubled beads?

But that affluenza suffered has gone.
And many with pretensions hate to have it even mentioned.
But that affluenza suffered has gone.
And a healing has to happen if they want a conscious back.
Since that conscious that they had has laid them flat on their back.

Yes,
An affluenza suffered has gone.
Moan on.
But they've got to snap back.
Because that affluenza traps
How will they live,
Without those bangled baubled beads?
The ones they use to wear around to get the people teased.

But that affluenza suffered has gone.
And many with pretensions hate to have it even mentioned.
But that affluenza suffered has gone.
And a healing has to happen if they want a conscious back.
Since that conscious that they had has laid them flat on their back.

Yes,
An affluenza suffered has gone.
But many with pretensions hate to have it even mentioned.
Since a healing has to happen if they want a conscious back.
And that conscious that they had has laid them flat on their back.
But many with pretensions hate to have it even mentioned.
Since a healing has to happen if they want a conscious back.
And that conscious that they had has laid them flat on their back.

Yes,
An affluenza suffered has gone.
Moan on.
But they've got to snap back.
Because that affluenza traps
Moan on!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It IS Milk!

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'It is!
It IS milk! '

Great!
Now...
Let's move on to the meat and vegetables.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Canto the Twelfth

I
Of all the barbarous middle ages, that
Which is most barbarous is the middle age
Of man; it is -- I really scarce know what;
But when we hover between fool and sage,
And don't know justly what we would be at --
A period something like a printed page,
Black letter upon foolscap, while our hair
Grows grizzled, and we are not what we were; --

II
Too old for youth, -- too young, at thirty-five,
To herd with boys, or hoard with good threescore, --
I wonder people should be left alive;
But since they are, that epoch is a bore:
Love lingers still, although 't were late to wive;
And as for other love, the illusion's o'er;
And money, that most pure imagination,
Gleams only through the dawn of its creation.

III
O Gold! Why call we misers miserable?
Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall;
Theirs is the best bower anchor, the chain cable
Which holds fast other pleasures great and small.
Ye who but see the saving man at table,
And scorn his temperate board, as none at all,
And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing,
Know not what visions spring from each cheese-paring.

IV
Love or lust makes man sick, and wine much sicker;
Ambition rends, and gaming gains a loss;
But making money, slowly first, then quicker,
And adding still a little through each cross
(Which will come over things), beats love or liquor,
The gamester's counter, or the statesman's dross.
O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper,
Which makes bank credit like a bank of vapour.

V
Who hold the balance of the world? Who reign
O'er congress, whether royalist or liberal?
Who rouse the shirtless patriots of Spain? [*]
(That make old Europe's journals squeak and gibber all.)
Who keep the world, both old and new, in pain
Or pleasure? Who make politics run glibber all?
The shade of Buonaparte's noble daring? --
Jew Rothschild, and his fellow-Christian, Baring.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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The Columbiad: Book IX

The Argument

Vision suspended. Night scene, as contemplated from the mount of vision. Columbus inquires the reason of the slow progress of science, and its frequent interruptions. Hesper answers, that all things in the physical as well as the moral and intellectual world are progressive in like manner. He traces their progress from the birth of the universe to the present state of the earth and its inhabitants; asserts the future advancement of society, till perpetual peace shall be established. Columbus proposes his doubts; alleges in support of them the successive rise and downfal of ancient nations; and infers future and periodical convulsions. Hesper, in answer, exhibits the great distinction between the ancient and modern state of the arts and of society. Crusades. Commerce. Hanseatic League. Copernicus. Kepler. Newton, Galileo. Herschel. Descartes. Bacon. Printing Press. Magnetic Needle. Geographical discoveries. Federal system in America. A similar system to be extended over the whole earth. Columbus desires a view of this.

But now had Hesper from the Hero's sight
Veil'd the vast world with sudden shades of night.
Earth, sea and heaven, where'er he turns his eye,
Arch out immense, like one surrounding sky
Lamp'd with reverberant fires. The starry train
Paint their fresh forms beneath the placid main;
Fair Cynthia here her face reflected laves,
Bright Venus gilds again her natal waves,
The Bear redoubling foams with fiery joles,
And two dire dragons twine two arctic poles.
Lights o'er the land, from cities lost in shade,
New constellations, new galaxies spread,
And each high pharos double flames provides,
One from its fires, one fainter from the tides.

Centred sublime in this bivaulted sphere,
On all sides void, unbounded, calm and clear,
Soft o'er the Pair a lambent lustre plays,
Their seat still cheering with concentred rays;
To converse grave the soothing shades invite.
And on his Guide Columbus fixt his sight:
Kind messenger of heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive laboring search of man?
If men by slow degrees have power to reach
These opening truths that long dim ages teach,
If, school'd in woes and tortured on to thought,
Passion absorbing what experience taught,
Still thro the devious painful paths they wind,
And to sound wisdom lead at last the mind,
Why did not bounteous nature, at their birth,
Give all their science to these sons of earth,
Pour on their reasoning powers pellucid day,
Their arts, their interests clear as light display?
That error, madness and sectarian strife
Might find no place to havock human life.

To whom the guardian Power: To thee is given
To hold high converse and inquire of heaven,
To mark untraversed ages, and to trace
Whate'er improves and what impedes thy race.
Know then, progressive are the paths we go
In worlds above thee, as in thine below
Nature herself (whose grasp of time and place
Deals out duration and impalms all space)

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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A Moment Of Transition

In all lives
where great character
is attained...
comes a moment
requiring
exceptional transition.

Sometimes
historically to achieve
something revolutionary...
profoundly better
something imminently bad
must transpire first.

Not to recognize
the necessity
effort required...
to alleviate
inhuman pain
is an inherent evil.

Not to recognize
the personal necessity;
required to alleviate...
inhuman catastrophic pain;
when possible is to exhibit
callous inhuman indifference.

Not to individually make
a stand for our fellow man;
during times exhibiting...
evil in excessive transition;
is the most destructive tragedy
inditing the entire human race.

Not to recognize
the personal necessity;
necessary in submitting to risk...
this enacting pain of transition;
sacrifice which must be taken
is the most destructive tragedy of all.

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also Stone Cross Prologue, Stone Cross, A Moral Civilized World, Peaked Cap; Skull-And-Crossbones Badge, Dagmar Topf: A Defence Of Family Furnaces and Struck Down With A Thunderbolt.

The topic of this poem addresses inhuman regimes such as Nazi Germany and the moral obligation of free governments and individuals to resist them. Herman Göring, ordered SS Obergruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich, to begin The Final Solution on July 31 1941. Heydrich organizes The Wannsee Conference, for January 20 1942, the date generally agreed upon as the start of the Holocaust.
The exhibited ‘callous inhuman indifference’ mentioned, can perhaps best be understood with reference to a quotation from George Orwell, reflecting on the coming of World War II. Orwell said “When one thinks of the lies and betrayals of those years, the cynical abandonment of one ally after another, the imbecile optimism of the Tory press, the flat refusal to believe that dictators meant war, even when they shouted it from house tops, the inability of the moneyed class to see anything wrong whatever in concentration camps, ghettoes, massacres, and undeclared wars, one is driven to feel that moral decadence played its part as well as mere stupidity.”

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Columbiad: Book VIII

The Argument

Hymn to Peace. Eulogy on the heroes slain in the war; in which the Author finds occasion to mention his Brother. Address to the patriots who have survived the conflict; exhorting them to preserve liberty they have established. The danger of losing it by inattention illustrated in the rape of the Golden Fleece. Freedom succeeding to Despotism in the moral world, like Order succeeding to Chaos in the physical world. Atlas, the guardian Genius of Africa, denounces to Hesper the crimes of his people in the slavery of the Afripans. The Author addresses his countrymen on that subject, and on the principles of their government.

Hesper, recurring to his object of showing Columbus the importance of his discoveries, reverses the order of time, and exhibits the continent again in its savage state. He then displays the progress of arts in America. Fur-trade. Fisheries. Productions. Commerce. Education. Philosophical discoveries. Painting. Poetry.

Hail, holy Peace, from thy sublime abode
Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God!
Before his arm around our embryon earth
Stretch'd the dim void, and gave to nature birth.
Ere morning stars his glowing chambers hung,
Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue,
Veil'd in the splendors of his beamful mind,
In blest repose thy placid form reclined,
Lived in his life, his inward sapience caught,
And traced and toned his universe of thought.
Borne thro the expanse with his creating voice
Thy presence bade the unfolding worlds rejoice,
Led forth the systems on their bright career,
Shaped all their curves and fashion'd every sphere,
Spaced out their suns, and round each radiant goal,
Orb over orb, compell'd their train to roll,
Bade heaven's own harmony their force combine.
Taught all their host symphonious strains to join,
Gave to seraphic harps their sounding lays,
Their joys to angels, and to men their praise.

From scenes of blood, these verdant shores that stain,
From numerous friends in recent battle slain,
From blazing towns that scorch the purple sky,
From houseless hordes their smoking walls that fly,
From the black prison ships, those groaning graves,
From warring fleets that vex the gory waves,
From a storm'd world, long taught thy flight to mourn,
I rise, delightful Peace, and greet thy glad return.

For now the untuneful trump shall grate no more;
Ye silver streams, no longer swell with gore,
Bear from your war-beat banks the guilty stain
With yon retiring navies to the main.
While other views, unfolding on my eyes,
And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise;
Bring, bounteous Peace, in thy celestial throng.
Life to my soul, and rapture to my song;
Give me to trace, with pure unclouded ray,
The arts and virtues that attend thy sway,
To see thy blissful charms, that here descend,
Thro distant realms and endless years extend.

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 8

And now the Angel, from the trembling sight,
Veil'd the wide world–when sudden shades of night
Move o'er the ethereal vault; the starry train
Paint their dim forms beneath the placid main;
While earth and heaven, around the hero's eye,
Seem arch'd immense, like one surrounding sky.
Still, from the Power superior splendors shone,
The height emblazing like a radiant throne;
To converse sweet the soothing shades invite,
And on the guide the hero fix'd his sight.
Kind messenger of Heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive labouring search of man?
If man by wisdom form'd hath power to reach
These opening truths that following ages teach,
Step after step, thro' devious mazes, wind,
And fill at last the measure of the mind,
Why did not Heaven, with one unclouded ray,
All human arts and reason's powers display?
That mad opinions, sects and party strife
Might find no place t'imbitter human life.
To whom the Angelic Power; to thee 'tis given,
To hold high converse, and enquire of heaven,
To mark uncircled ages and to trace
The unfolding truths that wait thy kindred race.
Know then, the counsels of th'unchanging Mind,
Thro' nature's range, progressive paths design'd,
Unfinish'd works th'harmonious system grace,
Thro' all duration and around all space;
Thus beauty, wisdom, power, their parts unroll,
Till full perfection joins the accordant whole.
So the first week, beheld the progress rise,
Which form'd the earth and arch'd th'incumbant skies.
Dark and imperfect first, the unbeauteous frame,
From vacant night, to crude existence came;
Light starr'd the heavens and suns were taught their bound,
Winds woke their force, and floods their centre found;
Earth's kindred elements, in joyous strife,
Warm'd the glad glebe to vegetable life,
Till sense and power and action claim'd their place,
And godlike reason crown'd the imperial race.
Progressive thus, from that great source above,
Flows the fair fountain of redeeming love.
Dark harbingers of hope, at first bestow'd,
Taught early faith to feel her path to God:
Down the prophetic, brightening train of years,
Consenting voices rose of different seers,
In shadowy types display'd the accomplish'd plan,
When filial Godhead should assume the man,
When the pure Church should stretch her arms abroad,
Fair as a bride and liberal as her God;

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Some Would Have No Life To Live

If you live in an atmosphere,
That has condoned conflict, violence and chaos.
When did any of this start?
Or were you born into it as if it were a gift?
And have witnessed this...
As if it to be performing art!

Many sat by and watch this nourish.
And in somes cases,
Encouraged it.
If this affected another race.
And on TV you saw this take place.
With accusations flying...
How 'those' people should be ashamed.
And how 'they' are such a disgrace.

Racism 'helps' many people deal with their insecurities.
Many countries wouldn't be what they are,
If not for the created terminologies...
Such as 'minorities' or 'enemies'.
Superiority and dominance.
Or...
Ignorance from it,
Dispensed!
Some would have no life to live.

Racism 'helps' many people deal with their insecurities.

If you live in an atmosphere,
That has condoned conflict, violence and chaos.
When did any of this start?
Or were you born into it as if it were a gift?
And have witnessed this...
As if it to be performing art!

Racism 'helps' many people deal with their insecurities.

If not for the created terminologies...
Such as 'minorities' or 'enemies'.
Superiority and dominance.
Or...
Ignorance from it,
Dispensed!
Some would have no life to live.

Racism 'helps' many people deal with their insecurities.

If not for the created terminologies...
Such as 'minorities' or 'enemies'.
Superiority and dominance.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

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poem by Nyein Way
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Diminishing In Effect

Isn't it odd,
That those losing jobs...
And valued things once possessed.
Are those more stressed,
About keeping up their appearances.
And pretensions that are diminishing in effect.

Few are concerned about realities to embrace.
Than they are about those impressions made.
And how to keep them in place.
And for many,
This is a traumatic undertaking.
That threatens their affectations.

'What am I going to do now?
Even the 'Joneses' next door have been foreclosed.
And my entire life,
Depended on their approval.'

Isn't it odd,
That those losing jobs...
And valued things once possessed.
Are those more stressed,
About keeping up their appearances.
And pretensions that are diminishing in effect.

And the only response one can expect from them to get,
Is a wish for an economic turn around...
To repeat those steps that got them into debt.
With a protection of those pretensions,
That are diminishing in effect.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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True Friends

Some experience a life of true friends.
The ones they know they can always depend on.

The bond that begins never ends.
There is such a closeness between them.

Friends!
Stripped of pretensions some send.
True friends will never,
Deny or lie...
To hide from deceits began.

Friends!
Stripped of pretensions some send.
True friends will never,
Deny or lie...
To hide from deceits began.

Some experience a life of true friends.
The ones they know they can always depend on.

The bond that begins never ends.
There is such a closeness between them.

True friends...
Will never lie,
To hide from deceits began.

True friends...
Will never lie,
To hide from deceits began.

Friends!
Stripped of pretensions some send.
True friends will never,
Deny or lie...
To hide from deceits began.

True friends...
Will never lie,
To hide from deceits began.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Canto the Fourth

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

II.

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

III.

In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.

But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

V.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth

THE chiefs were set; the soldiers crown'd the
field:
To these the master of the seven-fold shield
Upstarted fierce: and kindled with disdain.
Eager to speak, unable to contain
His boiling rage, he rowl'd his eyes around
The shore, and Graecian gallies hall'd a-ground.
The Then stretching out his hands, O Jove, he cry'd,
Speeches of Must then our cause before the fleet be try'd?
Ajax and And dares Ulysses for the prize contend,
Ulysses In sight of what he durst not once defend?
But basely fled that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the flaming
prey.
So much 'tis safer at the noisie bar
With words to flourish, than ingage in war.
By diff'rent methods we maintain our right,
Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight.
In bloody fields I labour to be great;
His arms are a smooth tongue, and soft deceit:
Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see,
The sun, and day are witnesses for me.
Let him who fights unseen, relate his own,
And vouch the silent stars, and conscious moon.
Great is the prize demanded, I confess,
But such an abject rival makes it less;
That gift, those honours, he but hop'd to gain,
Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain:
Losing he wins, because his name will be
Ennobled by defeat, who durst contend with me.
Were my known valour question'd, yet my blood
Without that plea wou'd make my title good:
My sire was Telamon, whose arms, employ'd
With Hercules, these Trojan walls destroy'd;
And who before with Jason sent from Greece,
In the first ship brought home the golden fleece.
Great Telamon from Aeacus derives
His birth (th' inquisitor of guilty lives
In shades below; where Sisyphus, whose son
This thief is thought, rouls up the restless heavy
stone),
Just Aeacus, the king of Gods above
Begot: thus Ajax is the third from Jove.
Nor shou'd I seek advantage from my line,
Unless (Achilles) it was mix'd with thine:
As next of kin, Achilles' arms I claim;
This fellow wou'd ingraft a foreign name
Upon our stock, and the Sisyphian seed
By fraud, and theft asserts his father's breed:
Then must I lose these arms, because I came

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poem by Ovid
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The Moral Rights

‘The moral rights of the author
have been asserted’… that, I’m told,
is what I should say when I write
anything for publication here; even before
I say anything..

It means, I guess, the more, the less..
than ‘Copyright’ which normally
gets printed just above it;
which just means, don’t copy this;

whereas ‘moral rights’ convey
so much more…
suggesting that I even possess morality;
which, considering my wild, undisciplined
former life, you might well question..

but note, I merely ‘assert’ them;
feel free to challenge them (you note that ‘rights’
are plural; plenty lawyer’s fees there
to say, well maybe this, not that…

and you’re free (your defending counsel may assert)
to copy my poem and put your own name to it;
since truth can be in no man’s sole possession,
and my poem, bless its metered tropes,
speaks naught but the truth..

though now I mention ‘truth’, I don’t recall
that phrase about the moral rights
upon the title-page of, let’s say,
the Gospels; Books of Moses; Qu’ran; Upanishads;
those guys on whom we’ve so long depended
to tell us what morality should be..

so please understand, that when I ‘assert’,
it’s more for my self-image than for yours;
makes me feel good; I must be
a serious author, if (in the subtext, scholars footnote)
the moral underpinning may be detected..

and that said – now to the poem.. Except
now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say..

Perhaps that, too, is a moral issue; but
I have the right to remain silent..
even if I’m up on this morality charge..

my defence is, that my Muse,
hearing the word ‘morality’,

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Pope – Jesus Christ’s the Only Hope

A Poetic Excerpt (I) from his speech to US Bishops

For modern world, the only hope is Christ –
The soul of man needs God for sustenance;
One’s loyalty to Holy See is prime;
Let Catholics strengthen bonds with Peter’s See.

America is great a nation sure;
The US Catholics fervently do pray;
Let me commend all believers to God;
Let’s thank God for the gift of grace to Church.

Let world’s largest community today –
The Catholics shine their light to all around,
And spread the Gospel to all fellow-men;
Let them too see your work and thank the Lord.

Welcome all immigrants to join your fold,
And share their joys and sorrows and trials;
Support the poor and needy as usual;
You’re well known for your generosity!

American aid for all disasters,
Within the country and that globally,
Is ample proof of generous a heart:
That needs thanksgiving to the Almighty!

This country is a land of strong a faith;
They worship God with fervor and great pride;
Their arguments are based on Bible truths;
You are a witness to Lord Jesus Christ.

I exhort you, brother bishops to sow
The seeds of Gospel in this fertile soil,
And help the Vine of Hope in Christ grow well,
And lead souls to encounter living God.

Let your beliefs and teachings of the church
Be practiced in your professional lives;
Let’s not exploit the poor and downtrodden;
Let sex be sacred and per moral thought.

Let’s safe-guard right to life until one’s death;
Let faith permeate every Catholic’s life;
Let affluence not hamper thirst for God,
Nor block the progression of soul to Him.

Let’s not forget our ultimate life’s aim;
Let’s drink from wells of God’s infinite love;

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poem by John Celes
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2010/08/07 Great Epic

Finished reading this version of The Mahabharata
must return to the beginning with insight regarding
the main character Yudhishthira -

son of Dharma, god of moral order and righteousness,
therefore Yudhishthira, eldest of the five godly Pandu
brothers, was honourable and virtuous

- and his enemy Duryodhana, eldest of a hundred Kuru brothers,
at his birth he brayed like a donkey and howled like a jackal while
wild winds blew and fires broke out

His father was warned Duryodhana would bring destruction to the
kingdom therefore he should be cast aside but he loved his son and
kept him alive; the end came about when

the hundred Kuru brothers made war against the five godly Pandu
brothers led by Yudhishthira, it is clear why De Santillana and Von
Dechend found a precession analogy

in this classic tale of men and gods and war: Mankind is represented
by the five godly Pandu brothers while the hundred Kuru brothers
represent the untamed forces of nature

unleashed through the Precession of the Equinoxes when the cycle
of 25 920 years reached completion, a new world age is ushered
in, chaos following in its wake

It is precipitate to jump to this conclusion, not having studied The
Mahabharata in depth, but a brilliant thread to follow in this grand
epic where so much is at stake

Ending on a high moral note - the Moral Order being victorious
after a cruel battle, revels are temporary, tribulation and pain are
fleeting, the story recommends:

Never go against the moral order out of fear or lust, foolishness
or rancour, anger or love; because the Moral Order, like our
eternal souls, will endure forevermore*

“The Mahabharata” retold by Vladimir Miltner, translated
by Stephen Finn, Treasure Press,1991 – * Quoted from
pp.242,243

“Hamlet’s Mill” Georgio De Santillana and Hertha Von Dechend

“Mahabharata” literally means “Great Epic of the Struggle between
the Bharata [dynasties]”

poem by Margaret Alice
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